


illicit affairs.

by unsealie



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Flashbacks, Fluff, Forbidden Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Prince Jaskier | Dandelion, Regency Era Vibes, Secret Relationship, They are so in love with each other, i want this to read like a jane austen novel okay?, monster hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsealie/pseuds/unsealie
Summary: They spent their time tangled together in arms that never wanted to let go, meeting up every summer for the season until Jaskier was inevitably called back to court and Geralt to his home in the Kaedweni mountains.Jaskier’s parents didn’t know, couldn’t know. He’d be forbidden from leaving the castle if they found out, and he was sure Geralt would be executed for his affections.That didn’t stop them from loving each other.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89
Collections: GRB2020 Team Works





	illicit affairs.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was written for the Geraskier Reverse Bang, based on beautiful art by [@battlecries-dear](https://battlecries-dear.tumblr.com) on tumblr, which you can find [here](https://battlecries-dear.tumblr.com/post/644137921821163520/this-is-my-piece-for-the-geraskierreversebang)! i've also created a playlist for this, which you can listen to on spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2RQsIQF0RkdMqc8PEDOSun?si=hkBeTG4nRLG86H3kaznsWg).
> 
> thank you to pepper ([@persony-pepper](https://persony-pepper.tumblr.com)) for betaing! the title for this fic is from illicit affairs by taylor swift

The table was set for a feast that Jaskier wasn’t ready to have.

The towns outside of the Lettenhove palace had sent in complaints of a monster they weren’t equipped to handle. A beast as tall as it was wide, apparently, one that had been terrorizing townsfolk and their cattle. This had gone on for long enough, and the king and queen drafted a contract and posted it on every notice board they had access to.

A Witcher would be gracing their halls tonight. Sharp teeth, bloodied swords, white hair and pale skin; he was everything the children’s tales made him out to be, called to their kingdom by a promise of creatures and coin. A _thing_ from the depths of Her hell, made entirely out of wrath and the worst things imaginable. Perfect, Jaskier thought, to handle the creature lurking in the woods.

And so his parents had prepared a meal fit for the beast they would be serving. Jaskier sat at the end of the table, his hands fisted in his lap. Was it fear he felt, or anticipation?

It didn’t matter, not when the Witcher walked through the doors of their dining hall and Jaskier’s breath caught in his chest.

-

_Jaskier hurried through the bustling streets of Oxenfurt, focused on the cobblestones beneath him as he recited his monologue. Becoming a bard was no easy feat, he knew, and if he didn’t walk faster, he’d be late to his next lecture, and he’d miss his recitation, and he’d-_

_“Fuck!” Jaskier’s teeth rattled in his skull as he ran head first into something_ solid _, books and papers thrown to the floor in his haste to catch himself._

_“Bollocks, I’m so sorry,” he muttered, kneeling to grab his things. His paper had narrowly missed falling into a nearby puddle and he thanked Melitele for his luck._

_A gloved hand grabbed the paper and added it to the pile Jaskier was quickly rebuilding in his arms; he looked up, suddenly unable to breathe. A man with eyes the colour of honey, of amber, with hair like snow and lips tilted up in the faintest of smiles stood before him. Not just a man, he realized, but a Witcher._

_“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier breathed out, eyes widening at the sight of him. There was no way to mistake the man standing there._

-

The Witcher in front of him was exactly as Jaskier thought he’d be. His reputation preceded him; it was impossible to not know Geralt of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken. The White Wolf, as some had grown fond of calling him. The monikers were fitting. When one grew up with stories of monsters and slayers just as monstrous, it’d be hard not to think of them as butchers.

Geralt stalked forward, every bit the beast he was meant to be.

But his Geralt, _Jaskier’s_ Geralt, had not changed at all in their many months between meetings; his hair still cut to his shoulders, beard dirty but trimmed, armour polished and held to the highest standards. There was a new scar on his neck that Jaskier ached to familiarize himself with. Jaskier saw the man he had fallen in love with standing in front of him and for a moment he forgot where he was, forgot _who_ he was. He stood abruptly, the feet of his chair scraping against stone, and he froze. 

His mother called his name, and suddenly, the world came rushing back.

He was Prince Julian Pankratz of the Kingdom of Lettenhove and, as far as his parents knew, the man in front of him was a stranger.

-

“Witcher,” Jaskier greeted coolly, motioning for Geralt to have a seat at his right hand. “Thank you for agreeing to take on this contract. We have heard many stories of your excellence.” He watched with eyes a bit too attentive as Geralt sat, listening to the familiar grunts and hums. 

“Our boy here has no clue what he speaks of,” a man said, chin raised haughtily. He spoke with the air of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. As the king, he always did. “We only ask you here out of grave importance. A beast such as yourself would otherwise never be allowed into our halls. Your so-called _excellence_ will not get you any privileges in our home.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to argue but one look from his father was enough to silence him.

“You will be given housing in the east wing. Meals will be served here in the dining hall, unless you would like them brought to your room. We expect this contract to take no more than a week, and you will be escorted from our lands when it is completed."

Jaskier had been raised on the idea that Witchers were lesser. Inferior to humans, as they had been mutated so much they no longer were considered as such. His father and mother were firm in their belief that Witchers had no place in this world, even as they slayed monsters to keep it safe. 

Jaskier himself had never believed it.

They had met years ago, when Jaskier was just a boy. Geralt had fascinated him, as all Witchers did. Jaskier loved anything his parents forbade him from, and Witchers had not been an exception. He had heard the stories of how a white-haired Witcher had butchered the town of Blaviken and had walked away from the battle unscathed, and how his reward had been a stoning. Jaskier knew every story that came after and every one that came before. He had even written every song he could think of, much to the displeasure of his professors. But Geralt was the first Witcher he had ever met in person.

They had continued to meet after that first day, whenever they could. Jaskier got to know his Witcher, and Geralt started falling in love with the silly, obnoxious man who refused to leave him alone. They spent their time tangled together in arms that never wanted to let go, meeting up every summer for the season until Jaskier was inevitably called back to court and Geralt to his home in the Kaedweni mountains. 

Jaskier’s parents didn’t know, _couldn’t_ know. He’d be forbidden from leaving the castle if they found out, and he was sure Geralt would be executed for his affections.

That didn’t stop them from loving each other.

-

_“Who are you, really?” Geralt had asked one night, Jaskier lying sweaty and spent against his chest. The question had Jaskier freezing up, a chill taking away his afterglow._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You’re more than the bard I met in Oxenfurt. I know you are.” There was no accusation in his words, just curiosity. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”_

_Jaskier thought that he’d never be ready. He hadn’t prepared himself for this moment, had loved living in the lie he had created. He had loved being Jaskier, even if he had to become Julian in the months that were to come._

_“I’m not. Or rather, I wish I wasn’t,” he said, pushing himself up onto his elbows, looking at Geralt now. “I have never wished to be more than I am in this moment. I’d like to be Jaskier forever, if I could be.”_

_“And who are you, if not Jaskier?”_

_“A man I have never wanted to be, Geralt. Isn’t that enough?” It wasn’t enough, though, and Jaskier knew Geralt deserved an explanation. Tears burned at the back of his throat and he blinked them away, drawing strength from the arms that still held him. “You’ll find that I’m just as pretty both ways, don’t worry. But Prince Julian is a bit nastier than I. Jaskier carries himself with more grace, you see, even if he’s not quite humble.” He laughed and sobbed all in one, finally looking away in fear of what he may see in Geralt’s face. “I understand, if you must leave now. Home isn’t all that far.”_

_A gentle hand cupped his cheek, a thumb swiping under his eyes. Tender, as Geralt had always been._

_“There is no need to cry, little prince. It’s not so easy to get rid of me.”_

-

Supper was a dreadfully long affair, his parents chatting idly as Jaskier squirmed at the table, desperate for a reason to get up and leave. He knew where Geralt was to be sleeping that night, and if he could get away with visiting him, he would.

It had been too long since they had seen each other last. Jaskier remembered it like it was yesterday, and remembered how bittersweet their parting had been. While they relished the time they had together, leaving was always difficult. With Geralt wandering the Continent and Jaskier being a prince, he never knew where the other would be, or when they would be close enough to meet again.

Geralt had once compared him to a bird stuck in a gilded cage. Beautiful, full of everything he could ask for, and yet still a prison. 

Jaskier realized more and more every day that he was right.

When he was finally given permission to leave the table Jaskier stood and left quickly, unable to look behind him. If he saw Geralt he knew he’d turn around and go back. 

\- 

_“You know, if you ever visit me at home, I think you’d like the music room,” Jaskier said as he walked alongside Geralt and his horse. “It’s lovely. One day, I’d like to play some music for you. You know, I’m rather proficient at the piano.”_

_Geralt listened with a smile and Jaskier laughed, shaking his head. It wasn’t as if Geralt would ever get to visit the Lettenhove palace. It was a dream he could dwell on, but one that would never be reality. His parents had not yet forced him to wed but they would one day, and they wouldn’t want someone in the way of their son’s marriage._

_“I’d show you everything. I know all of the passages the workers use to keep themselves out of sight, and I know where all of the best hideouts are. One time, when I was a boy, I hid in the kitchen pantry from my father. He had no idea how I had managed to get there, but he certainly wasn’t pleased…”_

_Jaskier told tales of his youth as they walked together, sharing with Geralt the life he had lived as a child and dreaming of a day when they might get to explore the palace together._

\- 

Jaskier crept through the corridors dressed in nothing but his sleep clothes, holding a candle aloft to light his way. The castle had long since fallen asleep around him but he had remained awake, padding through hallways and down stairwells, bare feet cold against stone. 

They were to meet in the music room, as they had discussed many times over their travels. The music room was always where they would meet, in any version of this dream they had created. There was still the lingering fear that they’d get caught, but Jaskier had spent many sleepless nights playing the piano for the ghosts that lived in their walls. It wouldn’t be odd to find him there, in the late hours of the night. Geralt could feign sleeplessness as well, and maybe they’d get away with it. But that was for Jaskier to worry about later, if the idea of them getting caught ever became reality.

He found the music room and turned the handle, stepping into a well lit room. Geralt must have beat him there.

“Fuck,” Jaskier whispered, jumping at the feeling of warm hands settling over his hips. “Hasn’t anyone taught you that it’s rude to scare someone?” Even as he chastised Geralt he leaned back into him, reveling in his warmth, a welcome feeling after the cold he’s endured in these many months alone.

He could feel Geralt laugh more than he heard it. “Sneaking up on prey is a tactic we learn as boys,” he said, turning Jaskier slowly in his arms till they were face to face. “Witchers must always be quiet, and we must always be one step ahead of what we are hunting.” 

“Are you hunting me?” Jaskier asked, hands braced against Geralt’s chest. 

“Yes.”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt by the chain of his medallion and hauled him forward, kissing him like he’d never be able to ever again. They stumbled backwards into the music room, Jaskier’s back soon finding the piano, keys jangling as Geralt kept pushing, desperate to get closer to him. Geralt kissed him like their lives were on the line, like everything started and stopped with where their lips touched. 

Jaskier pulled away with a gasp, cheeks blushing pink and lips already kissed swollen. “It is not appropriate to be so familiar with your prince,” he said after a moment, his hands still resting on Geralt’s neck, holding him close.

“So you admit that you are mine?” 

Something hot and bright flooded Jaskier then and he pulled Geralt to him, their lips meeting in a messy kiss. Their noses bumped and it was more teeth than tongue, but after so long apart, it was perfect.

“I’m leaving,” Geralt said between kisses, “to kill the monster. I leave tomorrow at dawn. If I’m not back to you in time for supper, something will have gone wrong.”

It was too early, too soon. Geralt had a week to kill the monster, and he planned on going after it on his first day? Jaskier opened his mouth to argue but he was quickly hushed.  
  
“There is no changing my mind, little prince, and you know that. If I cannot find the beast, I’ll return, and go back to the village the next day. Do you understand? If I do not come back…” 

Jaskier nodded and let his head fall forward, forehead pressed against Geralt’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you dearly,” he said. “More than I can say. I hate being without you.”

He felt Geralt’s agreement in the way he kissed the crown of his head, in the feeling of his hand resting against his lower back. Some things were just too hard to say.

-

_“Geralt.”_

_The man looked up from the fire he was building, a Sign half formed in his hand. He was frowning as if his life’s greatest work had been interrupted. “What?”_

_“Geralt,” Jaskier said again, hands clasped in front of him and twisting in a way they only did when he was anxious. “Look at me, dearheart. Please.”_

_He finally did then, looked at Jaskier and didn’t look away. His brow was now creased out of worry. “What is it? Are you alright?”_

_Jaskier nodded, taking a deep breath as he stepped forward, falling to his knees next to Geralt. He had been thinking about this for months. About the words he wished to say but couldn’t. He had been saying them since they met, though, using his actions to show Geralt._

_A part of him wished this moment could be more dramatic. Most of him knew that this was something just for them._

_“I love you,” Jaskier blurted out, eyes wide as he watched Geralt, waiting for a reaction. “I have since day one. I try to tell you in everything I do. Washing your hair, ordering your favourite meal when we’re lucky enough to find an inn. Mending your shirts and socks, taking off your armour after a particularly gruesome fight. I tell you, and you hear me, but I have to say it outloud. I love you. I love you, Geralt of Rivia. And I believe some part of me will always belong to you.”_

-

Jaskier woke late the next morning, having gone to bed as the sun started rising. He and Geralt had spent too long in the music room that night, holding each other and making up for lost time. Geralt was gone by the time Jaskier woke up, and while Jaskier knew it had to happen, he felt a pang of disappointment when he sat alone at the dining table.

He tried to waste his time waiting for Geralt to get back, doing anything and everything he could to keep his mind away from worrying. He sat with his parents for as long as he could stomach, worked on the embroidery of a new doublet to pass the time. Eventually, he found himself back in the music room, remembering the feeling of Geralt’s hands on him.

None of it helped the day go by faster.

It was sometime early in the next morning when Jaskier finally managed to sneak away. The sky was still lit by stars, and the moon guided his way into the village that surrounded the palace. His shoes clicked on the cobblestone as he walked, cloak dragging behind him. He had the hood pulled up over his head, hiding his face from anyone who might see him. 

He found a house near the edges of the village, all of its windows dark. If Geralt wasn’t here, at the place that housed those who complained most about the beast, it meant he had to be somewhere in the woods. Jaskier turned towards the trees that stood before him, and stepped into their shadows.

Jaskier’s fingers dragged over the bark of the trees he passed. “Geralt?” He called out, hurried along by the answer he did not get. He couldn’t see where he was going and knew he wouldn’t be able to find his way home; none of it mattered. Geralt had told him if he didn’t come back, something was wrong. Had Jaskier waited too long? Was he too late? It was near daybreak again. Geralt had been gone for almost a whole day. 

“Geralt!” he called out again, voice cracking with his desperation. “Geralt!”

There was no answer again. He stumbled over tree roots and rocks as he pushed deeper into the forest, thorns and twigs scratching at his skin and catching in his clothes. He was unable to think of anything other than his lover, not stopping for anything. 

And then- there. A flash of white hair, the gleam of his swords.

“Fuck.” Jaskier rushed forward and fell to his knees beside Geralt, immediately feeling for any wounds, Geralt’s body beneath him as familiar as his own. “Geralt, where are you hurt?”

“I’m not,” Geralt said, coughing as he pushed himself to sit up again. “I’m not hurt, Jaskier, I promise.”

Jaskier cursed again and pulled Geralt to his chest, holding him tight against him, never wanting to let him go again. Not if this was what he got for it. “Don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again, do you understand? I was worried sick.”

Jaskier took a moment to look at Geralt then, coloured in the pinkish light of dawn. He was beautiful like this, but then again, he always was. Even when he snarled and bared his teeth like the monster he was made to be, Jaskier thought he was beautiful. They were quite the pair, he thought, smiling at the image they must make. Him, in his blood red doublet, done up in golden jewelry and finery; Geralt, armour dirtied and askew, bloodied sword laying at his feet. They went together perfectly. He cupped Geralt’s jaw and kissed him softly, putting all of his worries and fears into this simple show of love, knowing that Geralt would understand every word he could not voice out loud.

“We need to head back. The sun is rising, and we’d best be home before anyone realizes I’m missing.” Despite his words he stayed knelt in the cage of Geralt’s arms, the only place he had ever felt safe. He tried to pull back and Geralt let him, the cold of the forest creeping in on the spot of warmth Geralt had left. “Come on, love.”

Geralt did not move as Jaskier stood, did not make to follow. Jaskier watched, rooted in place as his love shifted to one knee and slipped his hands behind his neck, unclasping the chain that held the emblem of his school.

“Vesemir said this was human tradition,” Geralt finally said, in reference to his kneeling, “but this is a part of ours.” He held his medallion in his hand, chain dangling down, the silver wolf’s head shining in the early morning sun. “I could not wait any longer, not now after I have known the lengths you will go to for me. You would follow me to the edges of the world if I asked it, and I would do the same for you.

“Will you marry me, Prince Jaskier of Lettenhove?”

Jaskier laughed bright and loud and nodded, tugging Geralt to his feet. “Of course I will,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks, his joy incapable of being contained. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you.” He lowered his head when asked and felt a weight settle heavy against his sternum. The wolf’s head sat proudly around his neck. 

“It doesn’t match the rest of my jewelry,” Jaskier said with a broken laugh, and his cheeks hurt from smiling, “but I’ll wear it till the end of my days.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. let me know what you think! 
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr [@lovelyeskel](https://lovelyeskel.tumblr.com) <3


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